The Sunshine Kid
by therainbowsunshinekid
Summary: He was they're savior, not fazed by anything. Always happy, always ready to fight. What happens when our sunshine kid is broken? Who will help him realize that he is more than just a weapon? HP/SS, Howince, ABUSE, MM, Violence, ANGST, Slight Humor
1. Prologue

So I'm not really sure if this is going to work, but hopefully it will. I've been itching to write a somewhat serious (as serious as the mighty boosh can get) crossover with harry potter. Feel free to give me suggestions, cuz I only have the first few chapters planned out.

YOU DON'T HAVE TO KNOW WHAT THE MIGHTY BOOSH IS. You don't have to know about it. But know that Vince is a very girly/a little ambiguous. look up pictures of Vince Noir and you'll understand. and Howard is a Jazz maverick. once again, look up Howard Moon. You don't have to, but it would probably help.

Pairings: Howince, Snarry.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Mighty Boosh or the Harry Potter series.

Prologue

Harry supposed that it made sense.

It was bound to happen.

Wasn't it?

That's what his uncle always said. That one day he'd outgrow his usefulness and he'll be left in the dirty streets of London, like the whore he really is.

Because that's what he is really.

That's what his uncle always called him. Yelled it, screamed it until he couldn't think of anything but the word and accept it as the truth. It was strange. Things like the prophecy he hadn't liked, but he knew they were the truth right away. He must be stupid. Yes, that must be it.

"Save the world?" His uncle had yelled when he had tried to explain in a feeble attempt of not getting hit.

"SAVE THE WORLD? I will tell you, boy, that there is only one thing you'll ever be good for, you hear me? DO YOU HEAR THAT, you FILTHY WHORE?! How stupid all you freaks are. This is what you're made for, boy. Remember that. Am I clear?" He raged, spittle flying out of his mouth. Harry had cowered in the corner, curled up in a ball as Vernon tried to yank his hair to keep his head up.

"You're a freak, Boy. Nothing but a whore. I bet all those freaks know it too. I bet you spread you're legs for them, just like you do here, boy." Harry shook his head in a silent 'no'.

"Answer this or you'll get it worse than last time. Who are you?"

Tears ran down his face.

"Harry Potter, sir." He whispered, but right away knew that was the wrong answer. Vernon had undone his belt.

"Wrong." He whispered, with a nasty glint in his eye. The belt came down with a thawk that resonated in the small space that was Harry's room. It ripped the skin and the remaining cloth of his shirt off his back in strips.

"Who are you, Boy?" This time there was no hesitation.

"Boy, sir." The belt came down another three times.

"Very good. That was your reward. Now tell me, WHAT ARE YOU?" Harry looked up with big eyes.

"A freak. That's what you are. You're a FREAK, boy, you're FILTHY, and you're STUPID, and you're a WHORE! You're disgusting." Harry was backhanded to the ground. He whimpered as he heard his uncle finish himself on the floor.

"Bet you would've loved that to be inside you, wouldn't you? You would. By the end of this night, Boy, you will." Harry was sobbing dryly. pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease......... was the chant in his mind. pleasedon'tnopleasestopidon'twanttoi'mnotawhorepleasestopstopstopstopSTOP!

And with that, Harry shattered.

***

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	2. Chapter 1

wow- so many favorites and watches with the first chapter. That's pretty awesome.

Please enjoy.

Chapter One

Vince POV

Vince Noir does not have bad nights. That's a lie. Never. But if RUSSEL FUCKING BRAND hadn't showed up he would still be the life of that party. Only two blocks until he was home.

Vince squinted and leaped against the wall as a car slammed on its breaks and tore down the alley next to him. There was an angry fat man driving it. He knew the alley was a dead end.

"Useless waste of space, I tell you. Why the hell did we even keep you? When I get home.... oh petunia will be so happy. Oh yes. Maybe I'll convince her to..." Vince then heard a noise that froze him to the bone. He peered around the corner and quickly leaped back, careful not to make a sound.

The fat man was dragging a boy. He couldn't have been older than 14. He was whimpering and cradling his body.

"Not a WORD out of you, Boy! Not a WORD! Do you want to get caught, is that it? People 'round here, oh no. You're much better off being left here. You think anyone would help a little FREAK like you?" Vince tasted bile in the back of his throat. He heard a sickening thud.

"This is where you belong, Boy. On the dirty, filthy ground. Don't you ever forget that." His voice than dropped to a whisper that Vince couldn't hear. Before he knew it, the car was tearing out the alley and down the road.

"Hello?" Vince's voice echoed down the alley. He couldn't see much. There was a dumpster and a few boxes. He could hear harsh breathing.

"Are... you okay?" Vince knew it was a stupid question. There was no reply. He opened the dumpster and was relieved and worried to find it empty.

"Please... I need to see if you're okay." No reply. Vince searched the darkness. He realized he was crying. He listened hard and the breathing was coming from the boxes.

He hurried towards them, ripping them off the pile one by one.

"Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay..." Vince stopped. He had found him.

He was a small boy, only about 5 feet tall. He had a mop of black hair down to his shoulders. He was skinny- to skinny. He was wearing nothing but a dirty, long, ragged white t-shirt. There was blood - oh god, there was blood everywhere.

There was glass embedded in his face, in his cheekbones and around his eyes. There were long cuts poking out of his shirt.

Vince froze. He wasn't a doctor. What could he do? He had never been good with this. Not even when it was himself. He was always getting hurt. He was the same as this boy, once. He wasn't able to save him, not when he couldn't even save himself! Bryan had helped him. He had helped a lot. Taken him to the hospital and everything.

Vince wondered if the boy had someone like Bryan. Not everyone did, that was for sure. He was lucky. Before he had Bryan, it was just his Mum and Dad. That wasn't so bad. He loved his Mum. But when Vince was three years old she was killed in a car crash, coming home from work. Vince's dad had blamed him for it, saying that she never would have had that job if they hadn't had him, and they never would've needed the extra money if it weren't for him. Vince had been shunned ever since. It was one of the reasons he was slightly OCD about dressing nicely everyday. in those four years, he was dressed in nothing but shorts and a baggy shirt. He never got new clothes. He didn't go to school, his dad didn't want anyone to know 'what a freak he was.'

Vince felt his blood run cold. Freak - that's what the large man had called this boy. No one should ever have to live with that.

Vince wondered if the boy even knew his own name. Vince almost forgot his. He knew it was 'Vince', but his Father only ever called him Freak or Pansy.

_"You're a fucking girl, you know that? You're not right in the head. Glitter- my god. This is why you can't ever leave this house. You're a pansy-boy. A freak."_

Oh god- he was really bleeding. What the hell was he supposed to do? He needed help. He needed a doctor, or something.

He needed to get the boy back to the shop. He needed Naboo.

Vince hauled the boy over his shoulder, turning his shiny white coat inside out, so it only showed black. He didn't need to attract more attention.

He hurried home, barely noticing he was stumbling. He was practically in shock. _So young - so small, so light, I can barely feel him. He doesn't weigh anything. I wonder if he got fed? I wonder how old he is? He is small, but then again, so am I and we all know that that's because of malnutrition. He only looks about 12. Maybe he is. So innocent. Who could do this? _

Vince almost walked past the Nabootique. It was when he saw Howard at the counter, in a jazz trance that he ran into the store.

Vince was unaware of his appearance. Howard was shaken out of his trance by the door ringing, and looked in semi-disgust at Vince's disheveled appearance.

Vince's hair was sticking up at every odd angle. He was stumbling, staggering and off balance from the weight of the body he was carrying. His jacket was on backwards and a bit wonky. His makeup was smudged. He was wearing his mirrorball suit, with white boots. His jacket was white, but had been turned inside out to black. He looked a mess.

"Howard - ! Oh please, you've got to help, this boy, you see, he, he,..." Vince blabbered.

"He what, Vince? It's only 11 o'clock at night, you're normally not back until 3. Have you decided to finally start bringing them home?" Howard interrupted, with a hint of bitterness in his voice. Vince always stayed out late on Fridays. Always.

"No, really, you don't understand-,"

"Understand what? That you found this boy in an alley way and decided he was pretty enough to bring home and sleep with?" Vince flinched, but not for the reason Howard thought. Howard was furious. Vince had never brought anyone home, and now he came in with a boy that looked like he was about twelve? _I don't know how you got this way, Vince, but you need some shaping up. _

_"_Alley way, there was a man, and a car, and run, and he said, never... freak, he said, and the boxes, buried, buried, behind the dumpster, and the blood, it was everywhere, I didn't, so I brought him here, please," Vince continued. Howard finally looked a little closer at his friend. His eyes were wide, pupils taking up most of them, despite the bright lights in the room. His lips were parted and he was gasping in between words for air. He was shaking, and had set the boy down on the floor. He was hugging himself.

"Vince? Are you alright?" Howard asked cautiously, taking a step forward. He was only about a foot away from Vince now, but he didn't seem to notice. "Are you... _high?_" Vince started, gazing at him with wide, terrified eyes. "I knew it. Look, Vince, just go, alright? I don't care what you do. At this point... just take that boy back to where he came from."

"Where he... I'm not, I swear!" Howard snorted. "I can't, he... just like... me..."

"Vince, you're barely coherent. Just go upstairs until you come down." Vince was shaking his head.

"N...I need naboo! Please, Howard, pleasepeaseplease, he's the only who can, he needs help..."

"Naboo? Why do you need Naboo?"

"I don't, he does!" Howard looked at the boy on the ground. He was bleeding, Howard realized.

"Ok, stay here, Vince." Vince stared blankly. Howard reached out to touch his shoulder. The second his hand made contact Vince jerked back and shoved his hands into Howard, pushing him backwards. Howard sighed in frustration. "

"I'm going to go upstairs, Vince. And get Naboo." Vince shook his head.

"No, no... you can't, the bad man.... bad, bad, bad-," Vince was on the floor, half kneeling and half fallen down.

"Ok, I won't leave, alright?" Vince nodded and sniffed. "But I have to yell for Naboo, is that okay?" Vince didn't answer.

"NABOO!" Vince clapped his hands over his ears and curled up on the floor. "NABOO, WE NEED YOU!"

The shaman slowly shuffled his way down the stairs.

"What, what is it? What have you done?" He said. He stared at the boy on the floor. "Is that it, then? Well I'm not cleaning up your mess this time. I don't deal with these people." He said, glancing at the boy. "Shaman magic doesn't work very well on them. Who is he?" Howard shrugged.

"I don't know. Vince brought him in, he made no sense at all. Can't get a sentence out."

"Well look. I can put him in stasis, but until Vince can tell us what happened, I'm not doing anything else." Howard stared.

"What do you mean, these people? What's stasis?" Naboo sighed.

"I'll basically freeze everything except the essentials, so that he'll survive. He basically won't change, might get a bit better but that depends on the person. As for these people, kids like him, they need a lot of magic to heal." Naboo waved his hand over the boys face. The tiny shaman gently picked up the boy.

"I'm taking him upstairs. Fix Vince, would you? I don't have time for him right now. His energy's all off. Bollo! Get the cot ready!" Bollo grunted from upstairs and soon the shaman was gone.

Fix Vince? What did he mean by that? Vince wasn't broken. Was he? He was just high.... right?

"Vince?" Howard looked around. Vince was nowhere to be found. But Howard could hear a quiet gasping, coming from behind the counter. Howard could see two discarded white boots on the floor, along with the jacket. He approached the counter and quietly went behind it.

"Vince? Little man?" Vince looked up. Tears were down his face and his hands were still over his ears. He was on the floor, his back against the wall of the counter.

"Naboo? Did.. he help?" Howard nodded.

"He did. The boy's safe." Vince looked at him with unfocused eyes.

"Who... Bryan? Is that you?" Howard knelt down, but didn't touch the younger man.

"Howard. It's Howard. Why don't we get you upstairs?"

"Howard? what.... Howard!" Vince's eyes focused. "Howard, oh god, it was horrible-," He choked and jumped forward, wrapping his arms around Howard's waist. Howard awkwardly put his arms around him. Vince started sobbing.

"I've got you, Little man. I've got you."

**

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